Page 39 of Hunger & Harmony

Except when I glance up, the woman is directing her gaze at me.

“What?”

She hovers the platter of blood closer to me.

“Refreshments?” She briefly glances at Lorelai. “Oh, excuse my assumptions, is this human your⁠—”

“She’s fine, thank you,” Lorelai cuts her off swiftly.

“Oh.” The woman straightens up and nods. “Call out if you need me, then. I’m just around the corner.”

Blood rushes too loudly in my ears to know if Lorelai responds. Did . . .that woman just mistake me for a vampire? And imply Lorelai is my . . .blood bag?

By the looks of Lorelai’s concerned expression, I think she really did.

“What the hell?” I whisper, and Lorelai shrugs.

“Uh . . ..yeah . . ..”

I don’t know what to think. Sure, I never wear this much black. To be mistaken for a vampire seems a bit much, even as their assistant.

Disquieted, I busy myself with the magazine rack. For a moment, I’m sure my mind is jumbling the words because of stress. It’s only when I try to focus that I see some of the magazines are written in an ancient text, surely vampiric script.

Huh. New Lure is the total opposite of Gravemont. Vampire presence is strong here. I can’t help but think of Ezren’s siblings. Do Hunters have their own territory close by? How does this all even work?

My knowledge is still limited. Living in a suburb of Halcyon Fields my entire childhood, I’d never encountered vampires in real life. No one spoke of them either, good or bad. They just didn’t come up. Maybe I’m more sheltered than I give credit.

That thought echoes in my mind as the door cracks open. How long has it been? I straighten in my seat.

A woman appears in the doorway, unlike any I’ve seen today. Tall, commanding, regal. From crimson lips to a tight, black bun of hair, not one part of her is flawed. Her beauty is hard to compare to, though I immediately notice her eyes are similar to Niko’s. Her natural authority, too. She moves from the door like smoke—the kind that suffocates slowly.

Lorelai tenses beside me. This must be Archduchess Imara.

My attention is ripped away when I see Niko exiting after her. If possible, his expression has become stonier, and his body language is just as tense as he leads Arteria back into the hallway. He scrubs the corner of his mouth with his knuckle before I can confirm, but I swear there was a stain of red on his lips. Supplements? Or actual blood?

I immediately stand, internally wincing when I realize how eager I must look. In Niko’s jacket, no less.

The Archduchess pauses, a subtle glance cast over me before she looks at her nephew.

“Stay careful with those you keep in your shadows, Niklaus,” she says, voice like a sharpened blade.

Another ripple of hostility crashes over the room. I shuffle on my shoes. Niko remains stone-still, and Ezren’s foot is tapping again. I don’t miss Selene’s fingers curling into fists, either. Even Ryel’s posture reads defensive. Because it’s clear what she’s saying behind her demure tone.

“You’re not worthy to lead.”

For once, I’m going to keep my big mouth shut. No matter how badly I want to speak up for Niko, I’m still an outsider.

“I won’t keep you any longer,” Archduchess Imara continues. “Wear the Crown with care.”

Less of a reminder, her threat hangs in the air many moments after the clicks of her heels fade. Not that anyone can get a word in before that awful woman who brought us here returns.

“How about that shoot?”

A storm of thoughts swirls in my head. I’m barely paying attention as I’m shuffled to the side.

How do I figure out more about this? Ask Ezren? Selene? Would it be better to confront Niko himself? I’m just so lost on what to do, or even say. I’m an assistant, of course, but . . .

Is it foolish to dream of being more? Selfish, even? I should stop. If there’s one thing I know about myself, it’s that being told no makes getting my way all the more enticing.